Colors
by blueskiesahead
Summary: The cats of the clans live in a world of color, a twisting, churning kaleidoscope, where each hue and tint looks different through another's eyes.
1. Blue

AN: I am doing nothing today, so I am going to get craploads of writing day

**AN: I am doing nothing today, so I am going to get craploads of writing day. Take that. My color oneshots!**

_Blue_

When I was younger, I loved Heavystep. Crazy, I know. But he was bold, he was daring, he was different from the rest. I thought sometimes that his eyes were made of starlight.

He mated with Mossflower, of course. Who wouldn't? Mossflower was pretty and kind and gentle, everything I wasn't or would never be. I watched the two with envy every day, and when the kits were born, I thought of killing them.

I found a new love, someone bold and brave and cool and gentle, with whispering words and carefree happiness. I could swim in their blue depths forever. I'll never have kits, but I never wanted any. Heavystep and Mossflower ceased to exist.

I am Leopardstar, and I am in love with the river.

**AN: Short, yes, but I like it! On to Green!**


	2. Green

AN: Same day as Blue, Green is now up

**AN: Same day as Blue, Green is now up! This is told from Onewhisker's POV. Enjoy!**

_Green_

We met on the wide, sloping stretch overlooking the river. Rarely did we talk, but when we did, it was about happiness, about truth and good and evil. About right and wrong. We always skirted the topic of love.

I was afraid she didn't love me. I knew I loved her, more than I loved the moors in spring, with their green grasses tickling the sky. More than I did my nest in the warriors den, or my littermates, or even my mother!

I told her beneath a starry sky, on a night when the grass was at its tallest. She blinked for a second before looking down.

"I love you more than the green, green grass," she whispered, "More than my mother and my father and my home."

Her piercing blue eyes met mine, and-

"Onewhisker!" she scolds, "It's time for Crowkit's nap!"

"Yes, Ashfoot," I mew playfully.

"Is that really what happened, Daddy?" Crowkit's blue eyes are huge with wonder.

"That's exactly how it happened," Ashfoot soothes, nudging him towards the nest, "But right now, Mama just wants you to take a nap."

**AN: Wow that was fast! On to the next one! **


	3. Red

**AN: Here's Red! Man, I'm on fire!**

_Red_

I'm running, heart racing, away, away, away from the mouth of teeth behind me. Faster, faster, they're getting to close to her! Lead them away, lead them to me!

I whip around coming face to face with Tigerclaw, the strongest warrior in the forrest, the piece of crowfood that antagonized my clan. It is pure terror that tells me to leave, but it is pure adrenaline that tells me to fight, to rip, to tear, to kill cat haunting my clan.

Every muscle in my body screams at me to turn back, to run as fast as I can. I lunge just as Tigerstar's jaws open wide. They snap down hard on my back.

Pain, horrible, burning pain rips through my body, tearing me open, leaving me nothing but a shell of fur and flesh.

"Runningwind!" I hear Mousefur shriek, her voice fading, fading, into a comforting and endless silence.

**AN: Edited. I just remembered Tigerstar killed Runningwind.**


	4. Orange

AN: Grassy, my Foreign beta, said she wanted orange, so here it is

**AN: Grassy, my Foreign beta, said she wanted orange, so here it is!**

_Orange_

We rise with the sun and set with the moon. From when the first orange streaks of light cross the sky to when the first silver glow kisses the sky, we are out hunting, guarding our home.

It is hard to live here. But it is home. I would die of sadness and sorrow if it were not for the red little flowers that grow in the mountains in spring, or the brown crunch crackle of autumn leaves beneath my paws.

I hear my ancestors whisper through the orange of the dawn's first light, and their echoing voices through the last vein of pale gold light clawing at the sky.

Teller of Pointed Stones is my name. This is my tale.

**AN: Thanks to Grassy for suggesting this color! I thought it would be easy, but Orange was actually a difficult prompt for me to write about. Purple is next!**


	5. Gold

AN: I lied

**AN: I lied. Shrumie (one of my forum buddies) requested gold. So here it is!**

_Gold_

I was the golden girl. The perfect one. The one who was beautiful and smart and talented and wise. A medicine cat with more talent and promise in one paw than some had had in their entire bodies.

My life was perfect. I loved being all those things. I adored how every tom in the clan admired me. My mother said I loved attention. My father said I looked as though I were starved of it.

And then Yellowfang came. She did the wrong thing sometimes. True. She was not golden, she was not perfect, she was merely a scraggly ShadowClan reject. Also true.

I have to admit, I hated her at first. Yellowfang was the opposite of me, down to the last hair on her pelt, and I shuddered inside to think of how ugly she must have been in her youth. Horrendous was the kindest word I could come up with.

But it unnerved me when she offered me advice, was kind to me, taught me little tricks I never knew. Yellowfang was not perfect. But neither was I, I realized. Yellowfang was not perfect, but she was golden.

**AN: Spottedleaf reflecting on Yellowfang. This is how I see Spottedleaf in the series, as a huge attention grubber. Now I'm really gonna write Purple!**


	6. Grey

**AN: I realized that I hadn't done anything for Colors lately, so I decided to bang one out! Here's grey, at the request of Inakura.**

_Grey_

The forest was grey. In greenleaf. Fireheart practically had to restrain himself from laughing at the irony of it all. Yellowfang was grey. And the fire had killed her. Unforgiving, merciless fire.

And what was worse was that he was responsible. He, Fireheart, was responsible for Yellowfang burning into grey, grey ashes. Irony seemed to feel no pity for him. Especially when it came to Yellowfang and Bramblekit.

If it wasn't for him, Yellowfang would still be alive. The stupid son of a traitor. Fireheart wanted to hit himself for how foolish his decision was.

"Fireheart," Cinderpelt whispered, quietly coming to sit beside him, "It was her time to die, and Bramblekit's time to live. Forgive yourself. Please."

He turned slowly to face her. Cinderpelt had almost died once. But she was reborn now. Yellowfang had risen from the ashes. Fireheart almost hoped that Bramblekit would be his friend and have Yellowfang's thorny tongue. Fireheart almost laughed at the irony of it.

Almost.

**AN: I decided to play with the aftermath of Rising Storm for this one, as well as the themes of irony and friendship. Loved writing this one a lot.**


	7. Purple

AN: It's been forever since I updated, so I thought I'd do so now

**AN: It's been forever since I updated, so I thought I'd do so now. Purple has been requested repeatedly, so here! Take your stinkin' color and get on with your life!**

Nightcloud loved spring. She loved watching the baby birds chirp and peep like the youngest of kits, she loved the thyme that grew wild and made the moor smell good and the prey who fed on it plump and tasty, but most of all, she loved watching the little heather blooms poke out of the grass. Nightcloud loved to roll in the heather, to smell their sharp sweet scent, and to feel alive and young and new.

Crowfeather saw her one day. She was rolling and purring and then he was just _there_, watching her being alive and young and free.

"What are you doing?" he demands, sharp and bitter and so unlike the soft purple heather.

"I love the heather," she replies, shoving every bit of his bitterness right back under his nose.

"So do I," he meows, voice softening.

And now that she thinks about it, maybe she isn't like the heather either.

**AN: It may be just me, but I don't think the Warrior cats know about the color purple. This was hard to write, but I hope those who requested it enjoy. **

**And for those looking for a few good friends and such, come by The Miscellany forum. We're number three! **


	8. Yellow

**AN: The prompt was recommended to me by Heartsong's fanfiction's. Thanks for the ideas, keep 'em coming!**

How does one describe color to one who cannot see? Oh, it had started innocent enough, gruff hello's and strained how are you's. But then she had asked, what it was like being blind, and he answered, far more truthfully than she expected. And then he asked her what it was like to see.

"Green is the color of the-," she had started, but he cut her off, shaking his head and pointing out what good it did to say it that way.

"Green is envy," she started, and he nodded. A bolt of confidence shot through her veins, bringing her to continue, "Red is blood and fury, orange is leaf-fall and happiness, pink is love."

And as she described the colors of their world, his eyes grew pained and sorrowed, but full of some- was it bliss?- to see the color that hid from him through the eyes of another. He was so full of passion, she realized, not about himself, but about sight, and all that came with it.

"The color of the sun?" he asked, voice hungry as if he were seeing what she saw, "Describe it!"

"Yellow is the sun," Willowpaw mewed, looking at his empty, sightless eyes, "and it is the color of hope, and of new beginnings."

**AN: Ugh, forbidden love. Kinda. I know, but this is all that came to me. Bear with me! Brown is next, Inakura, don't worry, but I'm saving Black for last so that it wraps up the oneshots rather nicely.**


	9. Brown

**AN: I have free time tonight, and since no one's at The Miscellany right now (which, if you're reading this, you should totally come to) I thought I should finish Brown and get it over with. **

If you were to ask Birchfall what memories he had of his two littermates, he would merely say, "Brown". Not that anyone asked. Few knew the grief that had been thrown upon the tiny kit's shoulders, and even fewer knew that even seeing Hollyleaf made him choke up with grief.

He remembered sneaking out of camp with his brother and sister, one spring day, when the prey was still plentiful and the forest still pure. And they stomped around in the mud, pretending to be Firestar, Bluestar, and Greystripe, youth making them careless and carefree.

Their mother scolded them for sneaking off and covering themselves in mud, of course, but what did they care?

He remembers waking up to find Larchkit cold beside him.

He remembers trying to bring Hollykit back from her death.

He remembers Hollyleaf, saying she loved him, and he remembers the tears that followed.

**AN: To make up the fact that I didn't do Black, I did angst. And so, so, so sorry for the lack of content in the original Brown chapter. I mixed up the documents.**


	10. White

Whitewing looked pensively down at the mound of fur that had been placed unceremoniously in the center of the hollow. It was a soft grey, silky and warm and inviting when blood flowed through the veins of its wearer. She refrained from touching it; for fear it had taken the stony chill death's claws brought.

Firestar, with his loyal deputy and most dignified daughter, had claimed that WindClan had killed the warrior, but Whitewing _knew_, she knew from the heartbeat she saw Squirrelflight's smug little face as the body was dragged in. There was a killer in ThunderClan, and it was not allied with the outsiders who allegedly brought about the warrior's death.

"He didn't deserve to die like this," Ferncloud murmured to her, a soft, hoarse whisper that no cat other than themselves could hear, and Whitewing was suddenly aware that the grey queen _knew_, and began to wonder how many could guess at Ashfur's fate.

"She hurt him more than she could imagine," came a whisper from behind, a voice Whitewing knew to be Dustpelt's.

"They claim to be pure," Whitewing choked out, "but they are grey. Only Ashfur could be white."

**AN: Didn't read the book, but there are spoilers everywhere, and I read on Julia's profile that no one cared when he died, so I connected the dots and put together a conspiracy. **


	11. Pink

**Huzzah, the return of Colors! Writing truly is the necessity of the writer in need (to be used as escape from dull relatives and bad '60's music).**

Spiderleg blinked once, twice, three times, because he still couldn't believe that he was a father. He didn't love Daisy very much (it should have been, as they agreed, a one-time occurrence for the sake of it), and as far as Spiderleg was concerned, he wouldn't make much of a father anyways.

Dustpelt had been a good father to him and his brothers and sisters. He made a point in aiding Ferncloud in grooming them before their warrior ceremonies, and demanding full reports from mentors after an assessment. Queens often looked at Ferncloud with jealousy when Dustpelt came around every day.

Spiderleg had figured he would never go to see Daisy or his kits, but when he saw Rosekit open her tiny pink mouth and let out a pitiful mew, he felt a swell of pride. Because the little furball was his daughter. And that was one thing that Spiderleg loved.

**Normal sphiel: leave a review, maybe a suggestion, and hopefully some conrit.**


	12. Silver

There is a land of silver stardust far, far away from the land of the living. The trees are always green and the forest of milky sky and cushiony cloud is filled with prey. No living cat has ever truly seen it, though, for it is the home of the dead, guarded by a great water without a ferryman to chart them across.

There is also a land of earth and blood, warm and cold at the same time. The trees change and the rocks and crevices of the forest are not always generous in revealing prey. Every living cat sees it, though they spend their entire lives longing for the land of milk and honey that awaits them upon their deaths.

Stormfur is certain he saw the land of silver stardust, down at the shore of the great water. His ancestors beckoned with crescent moon claw for him to join them in the heavenly paradise, telling him that his bravery and courage had earned him his place early. His mother cried the loudest of all for her son to leave behind the barren world of his forest home.

But he turned back and saw the grey-blue ocean, and the yellow sun, the orange leaves and the green grass. The purple heather was in bloom on the moor, and he could sense from afar the tiny pink mouths of kits. There was the golden silence that came after a rain, and even the soft grey pelt of his sister, underneath which pulsed warm, red blood. There was the brown of the dirt and the white of the clouds, and the world that he saw was one with beauty and wonder yet to be seen.

And for that, he turned his back on the world of silver and starshine, and turned to face world of colors.

**AN: And with silver, I bid thee adieu.**


End file.
